A Shoulder To Die On
by Soul Music
Summary: A secret organisation, shielded from the public comes back to haunt Tony after almost two decades. Without Gibbs on hand and his new boss unwilling to help, can he trust that he'll make this one out alive? Pre-Series. Rating may change
1. Chapter 1

**A Shoulder To Die On**

There's a school of thought which tells its students that to save thousands, sometimes one must be sacrificed; that it's better to let one perish than to let a crowd perish. Yet, when you think about it, the 'one' tends to have very little say in the matter. Think about it: there are always films and movies which have a heroic someone laying down their life for a crowd, a community, a city, a planet, a galaxy. It happens from here to Timbuktu. But, in real life, does the person with their life on the line really get that much of an opinion. No. It's a tough, gritty world, the streets and the alley-ways. You don't tend to get a say in what happens around you, and if what happens around you puts you in a position you dislike...tough. Either get out of it or live with it.

At the moment, the dark haired young man sitting in the darkened room, his wrist lashed to the chair with sturdy, thick rope, was thinking he'd much rather have the former of those options.

A door opened, it was wooden, splintered with age and disuse, but it didn't actually creak. It just opened.

"Good afternoon, Mr. Charlotte." A soft-spoken, light voice appeared from the doorway, followed by the shadowed figure of a tall man. This wasn't unusual, the shadows, the entire room was filled with the flickering things, tossed from the fireplace towards Alexander Charlotte's left. Being a polite man, Alexander Charlotte would've replied, if his mouth hadn't been stuffed with the dark remnants of a thick handkerchief.

"You don't mind if I call you 'Alex' do you, Mr. Charlotte."

Mr. Charlotte gave a grunt.

"I'll take that as a yes. Now, Alex, I imagine you are rather wondering what you are doing here, am I correct?" Another grunt, this one with a slight jerk of the head. The shadowed figure brushed something from the shoulder of his thick coat. To tell the truth it was freezing in there, the fire did little except to warm one side of either occupant and Alexander was only dressed in his hiking gear and socks. Somewhere his shoes were, but he couldn't remember losing them. Actually, he couldn't remember _getting_ here. He just remembered being here when he did wake up.

"You were hiking, if you can remember, with a few of your friends. Four of them apart from you, I believe. Now, we here are a small organisation, yet our clients are far from small. We need to make ends meet and that's where you come in." The voice never rose, never fell, it was just a soothing wave; but it was the words which made Alexander Charlotte's eyes widen, his breathing increase. "Calm yourself, Alex, it will do you no good."

The figure remained standing, reaching into his coat for a pad of paper, which he carefully flipped open. "Yes, four of you, and last night you camped just below the Creffeld Ridge about four miles away from here. Now, we couldn't take all of you, of course not, that would be far too conspicuous. So, instead we selected. I'm afraid, Alex, you were the front man, the scout. Do you remember saying you would go ahead while the others rested? And you did, but you have to remember, there are rumours of escaped wolves in those parts. " A small, almost sad smile flickered over the strangers face. "We've been called much worse than wolves. But, now, Mr. Charlotte. I'm afraid I cannot talk any longer and since you haven't been able to from the start we might as well just put you out of your misery. Parker!"

The wooden door was eased open again and a taller, thicker shadow entered, and without preamble grasped the back of the chair Alexander Charlotte was bound to and hauled it from the room, the legs screeching against the floorboards.

The shadowed stranger slowly made his way over to the fire, picked up a piece of new firewood from the pile and tossed it into the flames. It took a few seconds for the fire to lick up around its new fuel, crackling furiously as it cast dancing light across the strangers chiselled, middle-aged features. Straightening up slowly, he dusted his hands together with exaggerated care, listening out for the screams of agony, of terror, of begging.

And he didn't have to wait long. Well, this was biding his time wasn't it? And another customer would be made perfectly happy right now, because stocks were low and orders were high. He needed the people. Bryno should be here soon.

* * *

**ASTDO XX ASTDO XX ASTDO ****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO XX**

"I don't believe you!" Came the whine from the back-seat of the NCIS stylised, company sedan.

"Shut up, DiNozzo, I swear to the heavens above that if you so much as open your mouth again I will tie you to a tree and leave you for the honey badgers." Came the thoroughly irritated reply from NCIS Supervisory Agent Liam Tarrigan. Tarrigan had found the twenty four year old Detective DiNozzo on a joint operation with the Baltimore Police. The kid had shown something that Tarrigan had thought of as potential, as skill, but in actual fact all Tarrigan had received now was a headache. He couldn't control the boy, he just did what he pleased, and infuriatingly it actually came out with something resembling a result. In short, Tarrigan hated the kid and didn't exactly hide his feelings.

There was a silence in the car. "A honey badger?" Came the annoyingly endearing voice a few moments later. Tarrigan just rolled his eyes, hands tightening on the wheel. Blessed silence filled the car once again, the three agents engaged in their own thoughts. But, it didn't last long.

Craning in his seat, DiNozzo twisted around to look at the agent in the back seat. "Hey, Coop, you got that radio workin' yet?" You could hear the grin in his voice. Robert Cooper raised his dark eyes for a moment and a grin before looking back down at the dismantled machine which had been dropped in a freezing puddle. There was also a four occupant to the car, a man in shiny silver handcuffs glaring moodily out of a window in what was obviously a pout.

"Nope, and it'll go a lot faster if you'd help." He had a soft southern voice which had been tested through long years in Washington, but the south still slipped through on occasion. The convicted man beside Cooper sighed heavily.

"Not likely!" Came the cheerful reply. Tarrigan wanted to eat his own head.

And that was the last conversation had on the snow covered roads of the park, Creffeld Ridge looming off to the right and the car skating over the thin ice in the darkening woods.

* * *

**ASTDO XX ASTDO XX ASTDO ****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO XX**

Away, in the warmth of the heated NCIS HQ, another Supervisory Agent was despairing over his agents. Special Agent Gibbs ran a frustrated hand over his silvering hair, the confines of the elevator shielding him from anyone else. His lead agent, Stan Burley, had just been relocated after possibly the most useless and pointless mission he'd ever been on. Not to mention unsuccessful. Burley had calmly taken his place as Agent Afloat and retreated home to pack his bags. That left Gibbs with one agent, Andrew Sullivan. Sully was a good man, someone Gibbs had known vaguely since his corps days, he was good at taking orders, yet there was something in his way of holding himself that always made Gibbs think that he just didn't like his job.

The elevator slid open to reveal the bullpen and a shrilly ringing phone. Great. No sleep for the wicked, or even the good guys in this world.

"Yeah, Gibbs." He picked up the phone with the curt response, giving a glance over towards Sully who shrugged his shoulders and rested his feet up on the desk.

"_Agent Gibbs? I'm Ranger Paul Richmond, I was directed to you."_

"Yes, Ranger Richmond?" The voice didn't sound young enough to be a rookie, but he could never know

"_I was supposed to meet a team of NCIS agents four hours ago on a retrieval mission. I'm not sure if you're familiar with the Bryno case?"_

"No, I'm not."

"_Special Agent Tarrigan was called to the park because of Petty Officer Edward Bryno. Bryno was suspected of drug trafficking, he was suspected to be hiding in the park. Tarrigan and his team located Bryno and had him in custody. They were supposed to meet me at Lodge 14. They never turned up. I sent out a party and they found the car, it was empty. I wasn't sure who else to call and so called the main switchboard, they put me through to you."_

Gibbs sat silent for a moment, digesting the information he'd just been given. Agent Tarrigan, the agent who was positioned behind him in the bullpen, his team spread out as a mirror image to his own. Now, Agent Tarrigan had Robert Cooper, a very capable agent he'd seen perform many a time. But, that wasn't what was making his stomach do gymnastics around his insides. Special Agent Tarrigan also had a new, young agent. Tony DiNozzo. And that made his stomach freeze like the puddles all across Washington at night.

**ASTDO XX ASTDO XX ASTDO ****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO XX**

* * *

_Fourteen Years Ago_

The grainy television in the dark basement flickered slightly. Giving it a quick thump, the picture came back, it wasn't great but it was something.

"_...Mr. DiNozzo's charity, The Protector, has begun making its first donations to the Third World Countries it has committed to help. Mr. DiNozzo gave a speech earlier this afternoon..."_

The picture changed, a handsome, high-cheekboned man stood behind a microphone podium, a voluptuous, and much younger, woman standing behind him to his left. And to his right a young boy. He couldn't've been much older than ten or eleven, with the same sweeping soft, brown hair and delicate green eyes. The sand-paper paused for a moment on the rough wood as piercing blue eyes stared up at the screen.

"_I am delighted that The Protector has been given such a welcoming reception. This charity has been my dream for over twenty years and has finally come to pass. I just hope that this..."_

But, Gibbs wasn't listening. He wasn't even watching the man giving his 'I'm such a nice man' speech. He was watching the desolate looking little boy, with his bright eyes downcast and one foot scuffing against the steps he was forced to stand on. There was something wrong there, and it only took a few minutes for his suspicions to conclude themselves

_Thirteen Years Ago_

It had been a long, long year. Longer than he'd ever thought possible, but as the time had drawn on he'd realised that he'd never regret it. He'd never regret almost being fired by his boss. He'd never regret the lawyers and the politics. No, he'd never regret any of that. And now, now that there was a twelve year old boy, snug in bed with his blankets already scattered across the bed, now he'd never regret anything of that year. Well, maybe that it was just a year ago, not more.

* * *

**ASTDO XX ASTDO XX ASTDO ****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO XX**

_Present Day_

Gripping the phone in one hand, Gibbs finally answered. "I'm coming out, Ranger Richmond, what information do you have?"

"_Not much, we found the car about six miles from Creffeld Ridge, it looked like the car had skidded on ice and crashed. But it wasn't a bad crash, a few dents in the body work. But, there weren't any passengers. All the doors were closed, there was no blood in the car and all their weapons are on the back seat. And there's no sign of Bryno. We wouldn't worry too much, but just by Creffeld Ridge we've had some recent incidents of wolves attacking hikers."_

Gibbs grip tightened convulsively on the phone. Good Lord.

"We're on our way, Ranger, have someone meet us at the gate."

"_Understood, Agent Gibbs." _And the line ended.

"Sullivan." Was all he needed to say, it was the tone of voice which had Andrew Sullivan grasping his backpack and sliding his gun into the holster.

"Car or truck?" The thick New York accent of Sullivan asked – Irish American, fourth generation.

"Car." One word, monotonous answer, yeah, Sully could tell there was something wrong with his boss.

Gibbs informed Sullivan of the situation on the way over, his words specially selected for their ability to be monosyllables.

"So what do we think? That someone kidnapped Tarrigan and his team? C'mon, they're not that useless." Lighten the air with humour, Sullivan, great try. It didn't seem to work. The air inside the ca was just as icy as the air outside of it.

"It's wolf population now, but they wouldn't've left their guns. Someone forced them out." Gibbs concluded, though he hated to presume, he needed some premise to work with. Silence reigned supreme.

"Gibbs? Tony'll be fine, he's resourceful and as annoying as he is, he'll keep them together. Cooper'll look out for him if anything happened and Tarrigan. Well, he's a pain in the ass but he's not an idiot. He'll be fine." Gibbs let his eyes flick to Sullivan, his black hair and blue eyes conveying sincerity. Gibbs turned back to the road. Somehow it still didn't make him feel better.

The fire in the cabin crackled softly, the flames high and bright. A head rolled on it's neck, suddenly feeling incredibly heavy. With a grunt of effort, Tony DiNozzo pulled his head up, an unpleasant throbbing making itself known on the back of his skull.

"Ah, good evening, Mr. DiNozzo." Came a soft, nastily silken voice from beside the fireplace. A shadow detached itself from the others, padding towards the agent, who had just discovered the cords coiling around his stomach, arms and ankles. Charming wake-up gift.

"You don't mind if I call you 'Tony', do you, Mr. DiNozzo?"

* * *

**ASTDO XX ASTDO XX ASTDO ****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO****XX ASTDO XX ASTDO XX**

**Okay, now I bet your wondering why on earth Soul Music has just appeared again. And I'll tell you. When I vanished I had no time, literally no time at all to write. I didn't even have a computer to write on. Then, I kinda lost interest. You ever get that, where your mind is so blank you just don't know whether to go up or down? Well, I had that. Now, I hate abandoning stories, I really do, but I think that 'Hiatus' is a better way to put it. They're not abandoned, and if you want to poke me with ideas as to how to finish them feel free. I'm as blank as a sheet of paper. Except for one story, but that's just infuriating. And that's the story. **

**Here's another one. My mind is terribly strange, you get used to it. Reviews are beautiful, they blossom on the coldest day like raindrops from a cloud...Okay, that was weird, don't ask.**

**I apologise to my faithful readers, the stories will be finished, but I believe patience is a virtue in this...as is poking Eryn really hard with a large stick to make her write. Thanks and praise and many an apology.**

**Eryn [Soul Music]**


	2. Chapter 2

**If I Only Could**

_It doesn't hurt me.__  
__You wanna feel how it feels?__  
__You wanna know, know that it doesn't hurt me?__  
__You wanna hear about the deal I'm making?__  
__You be running up that hill__  
__You and me be running up that hill_

Ranger Richmond was a lanky man, his uniform covering his almost six foot four frame, boots tightly strapped up and hat tilted forward slightly. The sound of an engine could be heard for miles around here, the echoes bouncing off each of the cliff ridges and coming back to you so it was hard to tell from the direction the sound was coming from. However, from his vantage point up here, there was a long drop down beside the car where the Ranger could see the road, and the small convoy of two driving up; one a run-of-the-mill Ranger's truck and the other a slick government car.

Tipping his hat up slightly, the young ranger paced back to his truck, fingering his rifle slightly. This was wolf territory. They'd only had reports of the wolves, no sightings so far, but the dismembered bodies, those that the Coyotes had been at fiercely so organs were...well, not there. Right now they had sent out the occasional search party, the scouts looking for tracks and evidence. Nothing so far...well, except one of their scouts had been attacked and more or less disembowelled.

The rumble of the engines was closer now, and Ranger Richmond stepped to the side of the beaten track, watching the cars arrive. He gave a nod to his fellow ranger he'd sent to meet the agents at the gate and stepped forward to greet said agents. Two of them, one slightly older than the other, one slightly taller. The silver haired agent held himself strictly, holding up an ID before his hand. The obsidian haired agent did the same, offering a brief smile before returning to the business face.

"Car was found about three hours ago, no sign yet, we were waiting on your call." Richmond started straight in after introductions, leading towards the company car identical to the one parked behind them.

Gibbs gave Sullivan a slight nod and the camera was brought out clicking, flicking, the shutters snapping up each imagine.

Richmond stayed quiet, waiting for instruction, surveying the men before him. The obvious older of the two, the leader by all sights, had a tension in his shoulders and neck, his stance upright and military, the haircut as well, the piercing eyes were a cold blue, taking in every detail. A gloved hand was opening each door, searching each seat and beyond, paying close attention to anything.

The younger of the two was looking grim, occasionally shooting glances towards the older. His slim build was slightly hunched at the shoulder, onyx hair styled up out the way, deep almost navy blue eyes searching through the camera lens for each photograph. There was something odd about this team, or maybe it was the situation which gave Richmond a shivery feeling down his shoulders. The dark haired agent moved around to the side of the car, leaning down slightly to look in a closed window.

"What do you think? They abandoned it themselves?" The New York accent was quiet, contemplative. He was met with silence for a moment before Gibbs called for Richmond. The ranger approached quickly.

"How far could someone get on foot in three hours?" He asked calmly, extricating himself from the car.

The ranger thought for a minute, casting his eyesight around. "On foot the only real way is up from here. We would've seen 'em if they'd come down the cliff, so three hours they could've about just reached the peak of Creffeld. Otherwise there's only some old hunting cabins, but they're all locked up and empty now, they get checked every month or so. Nothing on last inspection which was..." He paused, trying to think. "Hey, Carl, when did the Creff cabins last get checked." The second ranger, who had so far stayed in his car on the radio, looked up.

"Three weeks, the twenty eighth." He called back, returning to his radio.

Gibbs hmmed softly, thinking. "We'll need to check them." Was his only response. Sullivan nodded his head in a 'well that was expected' type way, clicking the lens cap back onto the camera, keeping his eyeline down.

Something cracked in the underbrush. Four weapons were aimed in that direction, each snatched from a holder in a moment. Two rifles aimed into the dirt, two hand guns held steady as the undergrowth crunched again, something approaching at speed.

There was silence amongst the gunmen, each with eyes trained straight into the dense brush, each shadow a threat. A figure dashed from the brush, wide eyed, wild, shaking. A shot was fired from shock, going wide and smacking into a tree.

"Hold fire! Hold fire!" Gibbs loud, authoritative voice shouted, grabbing the end of the fired rifle and yanking it down, glaring at Richmond, who was still staring ahead of him, shocked.

"My god..." Sullivan's quiet declaration was murmured, the figure in front of him was bloody, scratched, mud clinging to his suit, a twig in his sweat slicked hair. Dirt and blood streaked his too pale face, the panting audible from here.

"Tarrigan?" Gibbs asked softly, taking a step forward with Sullivan. A whimper escaped the agent, tumbling to his knees. The younger agent lunged in to catch him around the chest, staring wide eyed as the ruined jacket fell opening, blood blossoming on the shirt beneath.

"Carl, call a medic!" Richmond came back to his senses.

Gibbs knelt quickly as Sullivan searched for the wound, pressing his hands down to the jagged gash on Tarrigan's abdomen.

"Liam? Liam, can you hear me?" Wild eyes looked over at Gibbs, a cough rattling out. A blood stained hair stretched up, grabbing onto Sullivan's jacket. The younger agent jumped slightly, applying pressure again.

"Sn...si...ag...hs..." Was choked out unintelligibly, blood on the agent's lips.

"Liam?" Gibbs voice was urgent, holding the agent's head in place. "Liam, where are Tony and Robert? What happened?" Sharp and direct.

The hand on Sullivan's NCIS jacket tightened.

"R...ob...ober." The man choked out again, head surging up against Gibbs' firm grip.

"Liam. Tarrigan, _what happened._"

"Snn...sn...atch...atchers." The whites of his eyes rolled into view, the body going slack in seconds, eyelids closing. Gibbs checked the pulse...still there...just.

"Where're the medics?" Sullivan's voice yelled darkly, coldly. "ETA?"

"Ten minutes, they're coming." Richmond replied back, swallowing. Gibbs was sitting back on his heels, staring out into the underbrush.

"Boss?" Sullivan tried to no result, and when Gibbs didn't hear you, he wasn't listening.

"This wasn't a wolf, boss, this wasn't a wolf." Sullivan's voice didn't shake as much as he thought it would, but there was a quiet tremor in the New York lilte, a smattering of Irish upbringing coming in through fear.

"No, Andy."

_You don't wanna hurt me,__  
__But see how deep the bullet lies.__  
__Unaware that I'm tearing you asunder.__  
__There's a thunder in our hearts, baby.__  
__So much hate for the ones we love?__  
__Tell me, we both matter, don't we?_

Tony blinked at the man in front of him, his vision still blurry at the edges.

"It seems you haven't much of a choice what I call you, Tony, but I never did much like calling you Tony. It was a name your mother used on you. I much preferred Anthony. Tony was my name."

A snarl from behind the gag and the green eyes of the agent hardened from understanding, recognition...and fear. The dark coat fell around the tall frame, immaculate as ever.

"Now, it took a while for you to get here, you might be feeling rather sore. You'll have to excuse Parker for that, he has no sense of manners. Quite like you did, Anthony." A soft, refined chuckle filled the small, cold room.

"You should know, _The Protector_ is still going strong, stronger than ever." Another chuckle. "That is why you're here, Anthony." Green eyes widened, the whites showing more than anything else. A grunt made its way through the rag gag, struggling against his hand restraints, soft keens emitting from the tied man.

"Now, Anthony, you know better than to get worked up." That horrifying calm voice chided. A gloved hand reached out, tracing the line from Tony's cheekbone across his jaw line, even as the young agent attempted to pull away frantically. "You remember, _The Protector, _of course you do. Although it has been many years."

A scream, out of this world pitched, pain streaking the room, blood cooling to sub zero temperatures just at the shrill tone. The young agent stilled, his heart thumping wildly against his ribcage.

"Focus on me, Anthony. You always were unable to keep your attention on one thing for more than a minute. Used to upset your mother so."

The scream died off, leaving a horrible, empty silence. Tony shivered, eyes still bulging like dinner plates. Round and terrified. A whimper escaped him as the gloved hand he knew so well drew a stinging line down his cheek again, tenderness betraying his real intentions.

"Don't fear, little one." The voice crooned. "Daddy won't let it hurt you." The weak scream which followed made a small smile quirk the sides of Anthony DiNozzo Snr's thin lips. "Too much."

_You, be running up that hill__  
__You and me, be running up that hill__  
__You and me won't be unhappy._

Gibbs sat behind his desk, staring at the case file in front of him. Edward Bryno had a colourful past, that was to be sure. Juvenile delinquent until he was fifteen, seemed to drop off the radar until he joined the Navy, looked clean up until last year. Although, a lot of the time, even if the public thought it was the other way around, you were always dirty until proven clean. Everyone was suspicious. And everyone panicked. Everyone was only human. But, sometimes, you had to be more than human to save those you loved. Correct? Impossible, but correct. Why do you think so many cases go unsolved?

In times of panic, people do stupid things. They can lie to get themselves off, scream and swear without much of a mind. But, oddly enough, panic mostly brings out the truth. There's so much going on in the mind that you can't decipher between what you can say and what you should say. Sometimes it can be liberating; a secret you've held through fear of the consequences. Or it can be ruining; a snide action that no-one was supposed to see. Either way, panic can bring about change.

And everyone panics. Some don't show it. Some leave it for another day and laugh in the face of it. They don't want to think about it, to have to deal with it. There are so many examples, exams being an easy one. If you are nervous about passing, you can be two types of people; the type that study and revise every free moment they have, cramming information into their minds. Or you can put it off. You can put it off, worrying that you'll never learn it. These two types of people fall into many different categories and subjects.

Most people don't want to be either, as usually one is never better than the other. Work yourself into such a state you can't function or don't prepare. Neither is better than the other. But, if taking those two options in this situation, Gibbs would always be the former. He wouldn't stop and he wouldn't pause. They say no rest for the wicked, but that's only because the good guys never rest either, and they are forever on the tail of the wicked, no matter the consequences.

You think it's clichéd? No, it's true. Humans form bonds far tighter than people imagine until the point when they bond might break. Painful, but true.

A phone rang. Shrill and needy on Sullivan's desk. The New York agent jerked slightly out of his reading, meeting Gibbs eyes for a moment over his own case file before picking up.

"Agent Sullivan...yes." There was a long, growing pause. Sullivan's pure blue eyes refused to meet Gibbs stare, his features hard and blank. "Thank-you." Sullivan put down the phone with a click just as Gibbs own phone rang. Oh this was a fantastic day wasn't it.

Sullivan looked up sharply as Gibbs answered, listened for less than thirty seconds and hung up on the voice still speaking. Both men looked at each other, seeing who was going to speak first. It wasn't exactly a long stare because Sullivan would always cave within the first few seconds.

"Tarrigan didn't make it through surgery." Gibbs already tense jaw clenched. Many, many swear words flitted through his mind at this point, each more horrible and longer than the last. Sullivan continued to watch Gibbs.

"Grab your gear." Was the reply he got, which he followed, not entirely thinking he would like where this was going.

The car journey was tense, and silent. It wasn't until the slick NCIS government sedan passed the boundaries of the park, Creffeld Ridge stretching away to the East before them, dark and shadowed in the afternoon light, that Sullivan spoke up.

"Boss? They've towed the car away by now." Gibbs eyes never left the track.

"Not here for the car." There was another pause. _Fantastic,_ was Sullivan's thoughts, _He's gone into 'ask and I might tell mode'. _A mood which infuriated himself, Stan Burghley, the Director, and...well anyone around him. _Just the worry talking. This is just how Gibbs worries; silently. _

"Okay, so why've we come back?" Sullivan asked lengthily, weighing each word.

"A Ranger found Agent Cooper."

The onyx haired agent looked around roughly , staring at Gibbs.

"What? In what condition?" Gibbs hands tightened with a soft creak on the steering wheel.

" '_Wolves'." _Came the cold, glacial reply. _Oh good lord. Help him. Preserve him. Save him._

_And get him to swap our places,__  
__Be running up that road,__  
__Be running up that hill,__  
__Be running up that building,__  
__If I only could, oh..._

**Well, look at that? Oh, and yes, I have two character's called Sullivan, sorry for the confusion. I wrote this Sullivan before thinking about it and then wrote a different Sullivan. I just like the name Sullivan. I have no idea why. Anyhow. It's a chapter, a late and odd chapter, but a chapter for the new year. Happy New Year. And seriously, just poke Eryn with a large stick, it does help. Pancake anyone?**

**Eryn [Soul Music]**_  
_


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